


Tyrajin Prompts and short ficlets

by SerpenLupus



Category: Warcraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: Fluff, M/M, WoW Troll, wow human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpenLupus/pseuds/SerpenLupus
Summary: A compilation of drabbles I came up with, received promtps to do, or belong to the WoW rarepair week.Enjoy! :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt :  
> "if you're still taking tyrajin prompts and its agreeable, would you consider writing something that's lighthearted and silly for the sake of being so? i just want them to be happy for once >:OOO"

They had stopped for a break on their journey, just to sit and eat. The air was chilly, but the sunlight warmed enough that it was fairly nice to lie on the grass and rest.

When Vol’jin had told him that he was going to close his eyes for a bit, Tyrathan had simply nodded and kept reading the map. Now that he had lifted his gaze from the papers, the idea of waking up his companion felt wrong.

The troll was sleeping soundly, chest slowly rising and falling while his hands rested on his belly. He looked peaceful, in a way that the man had not been able to see previously, not even in the Shadopan monastery; he always looked deep in thought, or alert, or just frowning, even when dreaming. Right now, like this, he looked… he looked like a cat, sunbathing in someone else’s roof, trying to soak up as much warmth as possible from the sun in a winter’s cold afternoon.

Tyrathan smiled, set the map aside, and, without a noise, moved a bit closer to his friend, trying to get a better look at his face.

His mohawk had flattened on the back, red hair mixing with the green of the grass, but still spiky in most parts. At first he resisted the temptation, simply watching Vol’jin sleep, but in the end the man couldn’t help himself, reaching with his hand to move some loose strands out of the troll’s forehead, and then forward. The hair was not quite like a human’s, but it was softer than expected as he kept touching, fingertips brushing the scalp.

At this, Vol’jin slowly opened an eye.

-… why ya messin’ my hair Tyrathan?

The hand stilled, and the man looked down - …sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you - and smiled - your hair is always messy anyway.

The Darkspear pursed his lips - it be not.

-This hasn’t seen a comb in years - he joked, moving his hand through the other’s hair again. The hunter didn’t know what was that the troll used to defy the laws of gravity and keep his hair up in such a way, but it came appart easily under his touch.

Vol’jin huffed indignantly, crossing his arms - we goin’ back on tha road?

-Not yet. We are in no hurry.

-Fine then, I be going back to my nap - the troll muttered, closing his eyes. At no point had he told the human to stop what he was doing though, so Tyrathan kept slowly passing his fingers through the red locks… until he heard a very familiar sound.

-Vol’jin, are you purring?

-No.


	2. First kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes friend hello! If youre still taking tyrajin prompts, heres one! How and when did their first kiss happen?

Well anon, I like to think that  
[this was their first kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254989), but just linking an older fic would be quite lazy from me, so here’s a lil’ extra thing for an alternative in BFA.

Hope you like it!

—

Tyrathan separated too soon, barely giving Vol’jin a chance to answer that sudden kiss he had greeted him with.

-It’s you… You’re alive… - he whispered. The man was panting while grabbing the trolls face, looking deeply into his eyes. Almost as if he still didn’t believe his presence.

He had broken into a sprint the moment he had seen Vol’jin, nearly slamming into him. And then, dodging his remaining tusk, he had kissed him with such intensity that the Darkspear hadn’t even had a moment to react.

Now, the troll’s lips were slowly curving up in the dumbest of smiles - ya be missin’ me dat much, huh?

The human’s face changed from surprise, to slight embarrassment, to a soft smile. - Shut up.

And he kissed him again.


	3. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrajin Prompt: During their time in their monastery, Chen actually managed to get everyone drunk! Tyrathan and Vol’jin wake up together the next day and…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not completely satisfied with this one, but I felt like I couldn’t really improve it much. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Vol’jin blinked once, then twice. The soft sunlight coming from the window was annoying him more than usual.

The troll squinted, lifting a hand to rub his face and cover his eyes. His mouth still tasted like last night’s drink, but aside from that and a mild discomfort, it seemed that this wouldn’t be one of his worst hangovers. Definitively not as bad as his first one.

Faint memories of silver hair, long limbs and an awful headache assaulted his mind, before he firmly pushed them away. He was not a teenager anymore, and this place was far, far away from the home of his youth.

Vol’jin sighed and tried to get up, and in doing so, catched a glimpse of silver hair and a smaller body, curled at his side.

What…NO.

Tyrathan shifted, apparently disturbed by the movement, and the Darkspear froze. “Damn ya Chen!!!” was his first thought. His second one was going back to last night, and trying to remember whatever had happened.

At least they both had their pants on. Thank the Loa.

The Pandaren… they had celebrated some sort of traditional festivity, and Chen had gladly offered his newest brew. Vol’jin had expected the monks to celebrate with their usual serenity and calmness. It had been like that, at first… until Stormstout’s recipe had started to kick in. Even then, nothing had really gotten out of control; the monks had simply become more talkative, some had started to play some music, and others had joined to dance. And, of course, a small circle that had formed around Chen to listen to his stories, which only grew slightly more exaggerated under the influence of alcohol.

The celebration had brought memories of the Brewfest to Vol’jin, and the nostalgia had affected him more that he would want to admit.

The human had been in a similar position, and they had spent the night together, the two strangers of the monastery, consoling each other in they loneliness. The alcohol had perhaps loosened a bit their tongues, but they had just talked. Nothing more. Vol’jin was sure of that.

Although waking up next to the human was making him seriously question it…

The man stirred again in his sleep, and although the troll remained still, his companion woke up. Slowly at first, blinking and shifting, confused by waking up huddled against a warm and very blue side.

-Vol’jin? What are you doing in my…? - Tyrathan made an effort of keeping his eyes open for a few seconds, but in the end he just groaned and covered them with his arm.

-Dis be my bed, actually.

-What? - he tried to move again, and again he groaned, muttering under his bread - damn you Chen.

Vol’jin chuckled at that sentiment, not making any attempts to move. It made sense that the same amount of alcohol affected them differently, but it hadn’t occurred to him before.

The hunter peeked from beneath his arm, squinting, in a poor attempt to glare at his companion. - why are you… ugh, so ok… - he tried, before he had to hide from the sunlight again, looking pretty miserable.

Vol’jin felt a dangerous pang of fondness, before deciding to have a bit of fun at the expense of the human. - We Trolls can’t be gettin’ hangovers - he lied.

Tyrathan peeked once more at him, a mixture of a headache face, disbelief and immense betrayal reflected in his expression - by the light, I fucking hate you - he muttered.

The troll laughed and finally sat up, leaving the man facing down as he pulled his arm from beneath his smaller body. He didn’t feel great, but it was nothing that a good breakfast wouldn’t solve. He wasn’t so sure he could say the same for the hunter.

-Come on, I be thinkin’ tha monks can be makin’ sometin’ to be makin’ ya feel better.

A disagreeing groan was his answer.

Vol’jin stood up and stretched, then turned, intent of moving away the human from his “bed”. But Tyrathan had extended his free hand and was tapping around him, apparently searching for something.

-Where’s your pillow? - he finally asked in a weak voice.

-I be not havin’ one. Trolls don’t be needin’ pillows.

The following sound was the closest thing to a banshee’s wail Vol’jin had heard coming from a living body.


	4. Tyrajin Day 7: Reunion

Something gifted to him, treasured and preserved.

Something taken from him, lost and retrieved.

And a piece of him, freely given, carefully kept, and willingly returned.

These were the requirements the Loa of Death had asked the Darkspears in exchange of returning their chieftain.

For the two first, at least they knew what to go for.

His glaive, crafted by a Pandaren monk, a weapon he had always kept pristine, sharp, and well taken care of. It hadn’t been affected by the fire when they had placed it beside his body in his funeral pyre. The Tribe had known it was a signal, just one for an incomplete message. It was placed in Grommash Hold, with his mask, so at its sight everyone was reminded of their Warchief. Of his fights and sacrifices, for the Horde.

His broken tusk had been thought to be lost forever at first, until the final confrontation with Gul’dan had arrived. The warlock had kept it as a trophy, and his taunts and delusions of power had only strengthened the blow that had ended his life. The Darkspears that had taken part in his downfall instantly recognized the piece of tusk amongst the other belongings. They had taken it to their home in the Echo Isles, to be properly treasured, for it was the only remain of their chieftain that had not been corrupted by the fel.

However, the last request remained a mystery, for a time. Vol’jin had given many things for his tribe, but nothing of them were a tangible object, like the Loa was asking of them.

The Darkspears had nearly lost their hope, when the answer presented itself to them in the most unexpected way; a human. He appeared before them in Nazmir, without weapons, and accompanied by some of the Darkspear hunters.

He presented a lock of red hair, and at first, most were outraged; they thought he had taken that from their chieftain, attacked him and kept it as a trophy, just like Gul’dan had. Others remembered the Loa’s requirements, and refused to believe it could belong to Vol’jin, that he would have freely given it to a human.

This man, he could never know how much the tribe cared for their chieftain, he could never come close of how they loved him, but… he had come this far into enemy territory, unarmed, risking his life. All to bring this to them, all to help bring Vol’jin back, and, perhaps… that was enough.

But Master Gadrin only needed a moment to know the truth, and the final word was Bwonsamdi’s, who declared that the three requirements were complete, and laughed. A terrifying sound for the mortals, even if it was one of joy.

The Loa took the three objects, and turned to his Necropolis, but before going in, he addressed the hunter once more.

“Come wit me human, I be needin’ somethin’ else from ya”.

The Darkspears had turned to each other then, exchanging confused and worried glances between them. It was not strange that a Loa would want a sacrifice, but should that human be one? Would their chieftain want it so? Did the man even know? Should they warn him…?

Yet Tyrathan showed no doubt or fear. He nodded first to the Loa, and then to the hunters that had brought him, before following the deity into his temple.

——

The Necropolis was an unsettling place, but Tyrathan simply walked after the Loa. It had been through dreams that he had learnt what he had needed to do, what he needed to give. He didn’t fear his fate, if it meant he could see Vol’jin once more.

Bwonsamdi stopped before some sort of altar, surrounded by faint lights of blue and green tones, and carefully placed the three objects there. Then, he turned to the man, and extended his hand.

Tyrathan felt a shiver, and his instincts screamed at him to get away from this creature, but he stayed in his place. The bony fingers pressed against his chest, and he felt a pull.

A moment after, he saw a very small flicker of light dancing around those bones as the Loa pulled away. In his hand there was something that glowed softly with golden tones, something warm and familiar…

-What did you do? - the words escaped his mouth before he was conscious he had spoken them. The Loa simply laughed, and turned once more to the altar, carefully placing that soft light amongst the other things.

There was a reaction, and the soft glow extended to those objects, changing, morphing into something different as the brightness intensified.

-Come now son of Sen’jin, dey be waitin’ for ya! - the Loa bellowed, but Tyrathan didn’t even register it, all of his attention captured by the familiar silhouette taking forming in the light. More and more, they seemed to become solid, tangible, until the man could clearly see a pair of amber eyes open, and smile at him in recognition.


End file.
